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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25067449">Sweet torture</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_nerds/pseuds/rainbow_nerds'>rainbow_nerds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Artist Steve Rogers, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Roommates, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, What's the opposite of huddling for warmth?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:07:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25067449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_nerds/pseuds/rainbow_nerds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky got off work on one of the hottest days of the year, wishing the heatwave would break before he managed to sweat out all the liquid in his body. The shitty ceiling fan in his and Steve’s apartment had finally up and died right as the temperature outside had started climbing and it was torture. They had resorted to leaving the windows open constantly, hoping for a breeze. But what was worse, not that Bucky would never admit it was a problem out loud, was the way they had started spending more and more time lounging around in their underwear to keep cool.<br/>It wasn’t that Bucky was necessarily opposed to nudity, in a general sense. Especially not in the peace of your own home, but it was a very specific struggle not to let his eyes linger over Steve’s pale legs and skinny arms when he was sitting sprawled out in front of him, fair hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and skin all pretty and pink in the heat.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sweet torture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this a while back, but never got around to posting it. I figured Steve's birthday was as good an excuse as any to finally get to it!<br/>Thanks the lovely <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cap_and_cyborg/pseuds/cap_and_cyborg">cap_and_cyborg</a> for reading this over for me and reminding me that not every punctuation mark needs to be a comma. &lt;3 Any mistakes remaining are purely my own.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Bucky got off work on one of the hottest days of the year, wishing the heatwave would break before he managed to sweat out all the liquid in his body. The shitty ceiling fan in his and Steve’s apartment had finally up and died right as the temperature outside had started climbing and it was torture. They had resorted to leaving the windows open constantly, hoping for a breeze. But what was worse — not that Bucky would never admit it out loud, was the way they had started spending more and more time lounging around in their underwear to keep cool.</p><p>It wasn’t that Bucky was necessarily opposed to nudity, in a general sense. Especially not in the peace of your own home, but it was a very specific struggle not to let his eyes linger on Steve’s pale legs and skinny arms when he was sitting sprawled out in front of him, fair hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and skin all pretty and pink in the heat.</p><p>Bucky walked into the apartment, bracing himself for the sight and thankful for the excuse of the temperature to splash his face with water when he saw Steve sprawled on the floor in only his undershirt and boxer shorts, a drawing pad open in front of him.</p><p>Any shyness Bucky may have felt was overwhelmed by the desire to dispose of the sweat-soaked fabric clinging to every inch of his body, so he pulled off his suspenders and removed his shirt, tossing it in the laundry hamper. His pants followed not long after. He felt better almost right away, though there wasn’t much by way of a breeze coming in the window to cool him down; the old and frayed lace curtains which had come with the apartment hanging there barely rippled in the stifling heat.</p><p>Bucky felt the cotton of his undershirt damp against his skin, soaked through with sweat, and he hesitated only briefly before pulling it off and sending it after the rest of his clothes. He returned to the living room wearing nothing but his white cotton briefs and refusing to feel any shame about it.</p><p>He filled a glass of water from the sink and downed it in one, before flopping himself down on their ratty old sofa with a sigh. Steve had the radio on and soft strains of music filled the apartment. Bucky let his eyes drift to Steve where he was drawing something or other. </p><p>“You shouldn’t be laying out like that, punk. You know your back is gonna be in pieces tomorrow, right?” </p><p>Steve snorted.</p><p>“Thanks, Ma,” he mumbled, but at least he moved so his back was to the wall and the pad propped up on his knees. Bucky’s eyes lingered just a little longer than they should, but Steve was engrossed in whatever he was drawing, so Bucky let himself look. God, but he was beautiful. The way his brow furrowed and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he focused all his attention on the pencil and paper. Bucky just wanted to trace those lines with his fingers, to kiss those precious pink lips and hold him close.</p><p>“Have I got something on my face or what?” Steve’s question jerked Bucky out of his reverie and he flushed. </p><p>“Nah, just that big dumb nose of yours,” Bucky retalliated, grinning to show he wasn’t serious, and Steve laughed, rolling his eyes and returning to his drawing. </p><p>Bucky let his eyes fall closed so he wouldn’t be caught staring again. A slight breeze finally whispered through the window and Bucky sighed as he felt it wash over his warm skin. His breathing slowed and before long, the soft music and scratching of Steve’s pencil lulled him off into a doze. </p><p>He drifted for a while, somewhere between awake and asleep until something in the air changed and he was roused, propping himself up on one arm and rubbing at his eyes. The sun was just beginning to set outside the window, so he figured he hadn’t been asleep for too long at least.</p><p>Steve had finished his drawing from the look of it and was looking at the page in front of him, an unreadable expression on his face. Bucky cleared his throat and Steve jumped, clearly only just realising he was awake.</p><p>“What’s up, Stevie?” he asked and Steve flushed, holding the pad to his chest protectively.</p><p>“Nothing, you just surprised me, you jerk.” He laughed it off and Bucky stood up, stretching in the process.</p><p>“What’cha drawing?” he asked, making his way over to Steve, who tried to cover the page. Bucky managed to make out the outline, though, and his mouth went dry at the sight.</p><p>“Is that…” He coughed. “Is that me?” he asked, shakily. Steve turned pink and this time Bucky allowed himself to hope that it wasn’t just the heat. He nodded. Bucky reached out, slowly, and Steve handed over the sketchpad. His hand was trembling.</p><p>Bucky stared at the picture in front of him. He took a few steps back and sat back down where he had been before, unable to tear his eyes away from the delicate pencil marks on the page. It was Bucky, reclining on the sofa and sleeping peacefully. His hair was a mess and his mouth half open in sleep. Steve had captured everything, from the dimple in his chin, to the spattering of hair across his chest and down his legs. </p><p>He felt tears in his eyes, which he blinked away rapidly. If he didn’t know any better, he would almost think it had been drawn with something like love. A movement from across the room caught his attention and he tore his eyes away from the paper to see Steve, who had stood up and taken an aborted step towards Bucky.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Buck. I was just-,” he cut himself off. “I couldn’t help it. You were just there and I-well.” He made a gesture towards the drawing and Bucky looked back down at it. It was beautiful. He let his fingers trace the lines where Steve had drawn him. Where Steve had clearly been watching him and he felt his breath catch.</p><p>Steve turned towards the door, as though to leave, and Bucky’s brain finally caught up to him.</p><p>“Steve, wait,” he called out, and Steve turned back to him. “C’mere, you punk.” </p><p>Steve squared his shoulders, as though preparing for a fight and took a few steps towards Bucky, who took one more glance at the drawing and set it aside. When Steve was close enough, Bucky reached out to him, pulling him closer. </p><p>Like this, Steve was looking down at Bucky and they were so close Bucky could feel the heat of Steve’s bare legs next to his own. A bead of sweat made its way down Steve’s face and Bucky watched its progress until it stopped on his chin, ready to drop. Bucky reached up to brush it away, watching in fascination as Steve’s eyes flickered at the touch. He let his hands drop then, to rest on Steve’s hips, heart hammering. Their eyes met and it was like the world stopped.</p><p>They were both quiet, the only sound coming from the gentle band music playing from the radio. Bucky closed his hands, gripping Steve’s undershirt and rucking it up slightly, so there was an inch of bare skin showing above his shorts. </p><p>“Is this alright?” Bucky asked, voice barely above a whisper. Steve’s own hands came up to rest on Bucky’s arms and his heart sank, expecting Steve to push him away, but he didn’t. Instead, he stroked up Bucky’s arms and across his shoulders, coming to rest at the back of his neck; slender fingers tangled with the sweat-slick strands of hair at the base of his skull.</p><p>Steve stepped forward into Bucky’s space, so he was standing directly between his legs. Bucky sighed and let his hands creep under the fabric he had pulled up, ghosting over the soft, warm skin of Steve’s waist. He saw the moment Steve’s breath caught in his chest and froze, worried in case his asthma was about to act up in the dense, thick air. But when he exhaled, it was clear and unhindered, and Bucky relaxed.</p><p>“Steve,” Bucky’s voice was wrecked and it came out hoarse and desperate. “Can I-”</p><p>“Please, Bucky,”Steve interrupted him and leaned forward so their foreheads touched and their breaths mingled. “Please.” It was all Bucky needed to hear and he reached up to close the distance between their lips.</p><p>The kiss was soft and tender; it tasted of salt from the mingled sweat on their upper lips, and Bucky never wanted to taste anything else ever again. Gently, he changed the angle and urged Steve to sit next to him so they were on the same level, and Steve responded by all but climbing into his lap and letting the kiss deepen.</p><p>Bucky wasn’t sure how long they remained like that, trading sweet, hot kisses. Finally, they separated, and Bucky couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his face, especially when he saw it matched by Steve’s own.</p><p>“We should probably eat something,” Steve laughed, finally, when it became clear Bucky was too busy looking at him, drinking in the sight of his kiss-bruised lips and flushed skin. Bucky shook his head and tried to pull Steve in for another kiss, but his stomach rumbled and gave him away. Steve kissed him anyway, quick but deep, and Bucky sighed in contentment.</p><p>“Fine, we should eat. There’s leftover brisket in the ice box, I think.” He stood and retrieved it, as Steve pulled out the end of a loaf of bread to make sandwiches which they ate quickly, never quite managing to break contact with each other. When their plates were cleaned, Bucky pulled Steve close again and kissed him, before leading him towards the bedroom.</p><p>Steve flushed prettily, but followed him. It was too hot to do much, every point of contact between them scorching and sticky with sweat, but they lay together, kissing and exploring each other in the ways Bucky had only ever dreamed of being allowed to, and it was perfect. </p><p>There would be time for the rest, when they finally got that shitty old fan repaired; but for now, he had Steve, and they had all the time in the world.</p>
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